


Like and Unlike

by fowl68



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Injury Recovery, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fowl68/pseuds/fowl68
Summary: A conversation between Regal and Kratos after everything.





	Like and Unlike

**Author's Note:**

> So this was borne largely out of boredom at work and of a desire to write something finished. I've been working on the latest chapter of Offerings to a Star--which I appreciate all the support and patience everyone's had with that fic. I love everyone who's been sticking with me through it, and taken the time to read it--and this chapter in particular has been fighting me. I've thought of several ways to start it, several scenes I would like to happen, but it's the in between parts that are killing me.
> 
> So I challenged myself to write a character I've never really written before. Regal proved rather difficult, since he tends to be kind of a silent observer for most of the game. I found it really interesting, looking back at the game, that the two men who have a very similar, singular trauma in their pasts are never seen talking to each other. So I decided to try and write that.

* * *

 

_Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other thing._   
_-Abraham Lincoln_

* * *

It’s three days after the worlds are reunited that Regal wakes, early as ever, to the dawn. His body is still sore and very much reminding him that he is getting too old for this. They had all found spaces in Dirk’s living area, as well as up in Lloyd’s room, to spread out their bedrolls and blankets. No one had been quite ready to sleep without having others nearby; their minds and hearts are still fragile from Mithos’ games.

With heavy limbs, Regal pulls on his boots before carefully stepping around his sleeping friends. Yesterday, every movement had been a struggle. Raine, Kratos, and Zelos had managed t heal the worst of the injuries, but there was nothing to be done for the aches and deep bruises that had remained. Today, at least, Regal feels up to stretching, if not some light training.

Someone is already outside, however. Kratos moves carefully through forms, each swing of the sword, each step, deliberate. He, too, had been injured badly. A blow from Yuan, unguarded and to the spine, is nothing to sneeze at, even for an angel.

Regal rotates and warms up his joints before he stretches. His back cracks satisfyingly when he twists, and though his hips complain, loudly, through some of the stretches, by the time he’s done, they’re grateful. Regal goes through his forms slowly, taking it easy on his protesting muscles and focusing on technique and breathing. Today is a good day to work on his basics. After all, one is nothing without their foundations.

The sky is awash in pink and orange when Regal finishes. Kratos sits on the porch, sheathed sword across his knees, looking almost meditative. Regal hadn’t even registered when Kratos had finished. The angel could have been sitting there for an hour, or five minutes. As Regal straightens from his final cooldown stretch, Kratos says, “There is tea, if you would like.”

Regal pauses, wiping sweat from his brow. He can’t say he and Kratos have ever had a proper conversation outside of the healing sessions yesterday. “Thank you.”

His entire body breathes a sigh of relief when he sits beside Kratos on the porch. He pours a cup of tea from the chipped tea set that sits on a tray between Kratos and himself. Dirk has excellent taste in teas, finding spicy, dark blends. After a satisfying sip, Regal says, “…you seem to be recovering well.”

“I am. It’s been…a rather long time since I was injured so badly. I had almost forgotten.”

“How frustrating it can be?” Regal finished curiously.

“Indeed.” Kratos falls silent again. Hard as he might look, Regal can find very little resemblance between Kratos and his son. Perhaps Lloyd takes after Anna. Regal reviews the little he knows, the little he’s been told, of the angel beside him. All of it sums up to tragedy. The War. Martel’s death, Mithos’ insanity. The loss of faith, the murder of his wife, the loss of his son.

“…May I ask you something? Of a rather personal nature?” Regal finally asks.

The weight of Kratos’ eyes on him is immense. Then finally, he nods.

“After the death of Lloyd’s mother, how—” Regal pauses, unsure of how to phrase it.

“Did I keep going?” Kratos’ voice, though quiet, resonates and carries easily.

“In a way. How did you find a purpose again?”

Kratos glances down to the pale, bare strips of skin at Regal’s wrists. Dirk had been happy to help remove the shackles at Regal’s request yesterday. A proud, sad smile had graced the dwarf’s lips when he’d given Regal the broken shackles.

“Have you considered that I am, perhaps, not the best person to ask?” If Regal isn’t mistaken, there is an undertone of an odd, dry humor in Kratos’ voice.

“Have _you_ considered that you are, in fact, the _only_ person to ask?” Regal counters.

Kratos hums, taking a long sip. _(If Regal was a younger man, Kratos would be absolutely infuriating. Nigh unreadable, with answers that weren’t proper answers at all. No wonder when, in some of Lloyd’s stories about his mentor, he’d sounded so exasperated and annoyed by the mere memory)_ “My best advice for you is one I gave to Lloyd. You must live their share as well. Live a life worthy of their legacy.” After a moment, Kratos asks, “Are you unsure of your future path?”

Regal is too old to be afraid of the future. “No. I will find my path. That much is certain. For now, I still have a company that I can use to foster peace.” Regal rests his mug on his thighs, allowing the warmth to seep into his skin. “After so long with a single mission in mind, it is…I am left a little adrift at all the avenues left to me.”

“The freedom of choice is a daunting and powerful tool.”

“If you believe that, why did you stay with Cruxis?”

“I believe you heard my answer to Lloyd on Derris-Kharlan when he asked me that same question.”

“I did. And though I know little about you, personal loyalty in the face of such immorality seems to be an ill-fitting answer.”

“You answered yourself. We do not know each other. The answer I gave then is the same I would give you now, and it is no less true.” Kratos’ expression brooked no arguments. He set his empty teacup aside and rose to his feet slowly. “By your leave, Duke Bryant.”

The words would have sounded mocking coming from anyone else, and Regal had no doubt that Kratos had intended them as such. Somehow, Kratos still managed to make them sound almost respectful.

Regal stays out there until he can hear the sounds of the others waking. The sky is much less orange and pink by that point. He rises slowly, knees protesting, replacing the tea set on the tray. He nearly runs into Raine in the doorway, startling her.

“My apologies.”

Raine eyes the tray. He can nearly see the cogs in her mind whirling at the mental math on the people awake when Regal usually wakes. “Fun conversation?”

“A riveting one. Very thought-provoking.” Regal moves around her into the kitchen where Genis and Dirk are working on a quick fry-up for breakfast. Dirk had not been equipped to feed nine hungry, healing people on a regular basis, as well as himself. “I do wish to discuss a few things with you, however.”

“Such as what?”

“I would like your input on changing the policies of the Lezareno Company. We aren’t discriminating outright, but we need to be more inclusive.”

Raine beams, the tired lines of her face clearing away. “Of course I’ll help. We need to see the existing laws and policies beforehand, of course. Any precedents for any legal complications—”

“Of course.” Regal catches Kratos’ eye as he comes down the stairs, freshly showered. “I was recently reminded that I am also a Duke. Between us all, we should have a good base for changing half-elf legislation.”

“ _Please_.” Zelos yawned behind his hand. “You have both Chosens, a Duke, the Chief of Mizuho, and the literal saviors of the worlds. We _have_ the power base.”

“I knew it wouldn’t take long for the whole ‘save the world’ thing to go to his head.” Sheena bumps her hip against Zelos’ as she reaches for the cutlery drawer.

Genis snickers at Zelos’ faux-insulted look. As they all sit at the table, Kratos claims one end, Dirk the other.

“Found your path I see,” Kratos says quietly as he passes a basket of toast around.

“Alicia’s legacy will not be one of vengeance and hate.” Regal keeps his volume equally low. They were at least two other people at the table with enhanced senses, but they are polite enough not to act like it. “She was a woman of peace, and her legacy will be as such.”

Kratos says nothing, but Regal is fairly certain he isn’t imagining the pleased glint in his eyes.

 

 


End file.
